


Binoculars

by abluevixen (knightofbows)



Series: | January 2016 Prompt Challenge | [27]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Full Shift Werewolves, Kid!Derek, Kid!Stiles, M/M, alive!claudia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 00:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6262696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightofbows/pseuds/abluevixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles likes to watch the wolf family out of the preserve. He names the black pup Shadow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Binoculars

“How much further?”

Shadow’s voice sounded wet, weak, little more than a gurgle giving life to his question. He hung heavily on Stiles, his knuckles white where they fisted his hoodie. He coughed, and black muck splattered his lips and the collar of his shirt. When he didn’t regain his breath, Stiles stopped so he could.

“I don’t know,” Stiles sighed. “I don’t even know where we are.” He sniffled and wiped his face against his shoulder. “Shadow, I—”

“Derek,” Shadow said. “My name is Derek.”

Stiles quickly apologized. “Sorry. I, um, I didn’t know. I’ll, um. Here. Sit down. Lay back. Let me look at your wounds.”

Stiles had been adventuring in the preserve with the new adventurer’s kit he’d gotten for his birthday. It had everything he needed for a proper adventure: a canteen, a compass, a small field notebook and pen, a pair of binoculars, and a belt with a bunch of pouches he filled with first-aid supplies, since the class he’d taken earlier that summer said to always be prepared. And a good adventurer was always prepared. So he'd packed a bag with lunch and some other odds and ends, and went off to find the wolves.

His dad always said there were no wolves in northern California, but Stiles knew better. He heard them howl sometimes, on clear nights when the moon was full. Other times, he saw their shapes darting through the underbrush when he played with Scott, but Scott never looked fast enough to see them. Scott and his dad didn’t believe him, but there was a whole family living in the preserve: a mother and three pups. Stiles had even _named_ them. The mother was Momma, the dark brown one was Coco, the black one was Shadow, and the auburn one was Scarlett.

Stiles liked the pups. They were cute, and less frightening than their mother. They’d chase butterflies and tumble with each other, yipping and barking. Sometimes they’d nibble their mother’s tail, and tug it to get her attention.

Without Scott’s bumbling company, Stiles had not only been able to find them playing in a field, but he’d managed to settle along the edge of the tree line and watch them with his binoculars without bothering them. It was the closest he’d ever been to them in the daylight, and the binoculars made it seem like they were close enough to touch.

Watching them, Stiles could almost imagine the softness of Momma’s fur. When he sleepwalked, he often wound up in the preserve. He’d wake with a start when Momma gave a soft _woof_. Her eyes were red up close, but not scary; and her perked ears, and faintly wagging tail made her seem friendly. He’d rest a hand on her scruff, and she’d lead him home before either of his parents ever noticed he was gone. Sometimes one of her pups would be with her, but in the dark it was hard to tell which one. Stiles thought Shadow was normally her company.

But then, suddenly, out of the clear blue, the hunters came with their guns and their traps. There were shouts and shots, and the wolves scattered. Stiles had fallen back into the brush, scrambling to stay hidden and to also keep watching. The hunters cursed and swore, firing more shots in anger.

And then he heard the yelp. Bloodcurdling, and pained. It had come from somewhere behind Stiles, and had been completely missed beneath the hunter’s gunfire.

Stiles followed the whimpering cries until he found Shadow in a steel jaw trap, a bullet in his shoulder. The pup growled and snapped at Stiles, but Stiles didn’t care. He read the instructions on the side of the trap to release its clamping mechanism, then gently held Shadow still when the pup tried to struggle away.

Somewhere between, “Easy, boy,” and “I won’t hurt you,” Shadow changed.

He changed from a wolf pup into a boy—older than Stiles, sure, but still a kid—and right before Stiles’ eyes. Human, he lay naked and bleeding, tears leaking from his bright blue-green eyes. Stiles cleaned him up as best he could, helped him into some extra clothes he’d packed, and promised to get him help.

So when Shadow— _Derek_ —started coughing and couldn’t stop, Stiles helped ease him to the ground and took another look at his injuries.

The bullet had gone through his shoulder, and there were no important arteries or veins near the spot, so it shouldn’t gush the way it was. And what Stiles learned was infection set in fast, and was spreading in a spider-web of black lines stretching down Derek’s chest. Stiles adjusted the sling he’d made out of his regular belt, and shoved another pad of gauze over both the entry and exit wounds.

Derek’s leg, however, was another story. Stiles couldn’t tell if anything was broken, but he braced Derek’s leg with thick sticks anyway, and wrapped everything tight so he couldn’t move or put weight on it.

“My mother,” Derek stammered. “My sisters…”

“I don’t know where they are,” Stiles said. “But I think they got away. Are they like you? Can they turn into people?”

Derek nodded. His face was pale, and he was sweating. His lip trembled as he spoke. “Stiles, I can’t—it’s poison. They shot me with poison.”

“I…don’t know how to fix poison,” Stiles murmured. “They didn’t teach that in First Aid.”

“It hurts,” Derek whispered.

“I know,” Stiles said. “I’m sorry.” He shrugged out of his hoodie and used it to cover Derek’s trembling body. He brushed back his dark hair. “I don’t want to leave you, Derek, but I don’t…”

“Derek?!”

Stiles shot to his feet, startled, and put himself between Derek and whatever rushed them from the brush. He didn’t know much about fighting, but he could aim a punch pretty well—his dad even said so. So he balled his fists and waited.

Suddenly, a woman burst through the trees. An adult. She could have been anyone, even one of the hunters, though Stiles didn’t see her with any weapons, nor did she wear Army camouflage.

Stiles held fast, and took a step forward with his hands raised. “Stay back!”

The woman’s eyes glowed red.

Stiles inched forward threateningly. “Stay! Back!”

“Mom!” Derek groaned as he struggled to sit, tried to get up from his prone position on the ground.

Stiles’ hands fell, though he still frowned in anger and worry, afraid Derek would be hurt further. He hovered nearby as the woman—Derek’s mom, _Momma?_ —ran her hands over her son’s body, fingers soft, touch gentle. She pulled aside Stiles’ hastily-applied bandages and growled.

Derek winced and cringed, but he didn’t recoil, and that was enough for Stiles. He trusted Derek to know what was dangerous to him and what wasn’t, and this woman wasn’t a danger.

“Stiles,” Momma said, “there’s a path a few dozen yards that way.” She pointed off into the forest. “Use your compass and follow it south. You’ll find your way to the entrance of the preserve.”

“What about Derek?” Stiles asked. He hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt, but Shadow was his favorite of the pups, and he’d _found him hurt_.

“He’ll be alright,” Momma said. She easily slid her arms beneath Derek’s shoulders and knees, and effortlessly lifted him. Stiles didn’t think she looked weak, but he didn’t expect her to be able to lift Derek so easily. Derek felt like he weighed a ton as they’d trekked through the woods. “Thank you for helping him.”

Stiles frowned deeper.

“Run along, Stiles,” Momma said.

Stiles’ eyes burned and he scrubbed them stubbornly. He _wasn’t_ crying. It was stupid for him to cry. But his hands were red with Shadow’s blood, and Shadow had been hurt by hunters, and Shadow had been crying, and then Shadow turned into Derek and Derek still cried because it still hurt and Stiles…Stiles just wanted him to be okay.

“Stiles,” Momma said. “Go.”

Stiles nodded and went.

 

###

 

Three days after the incident in the woods, three days after a wolf pup Stiles’ named Shadow turned into a boy named Derek, Derek knocked on the door of the Stilinski home.

Stiles answered with his dad standing behind him.

“Shad— _Derek!_ ”

“Son, you know Derek Hale?” Well, Stiles didn’t know his _last_ name. “Since when?”

“We ran into each other a few days ago,” Derek explained with a smile. “I, uh, twisted my ankle in the woods, and Stiles helped me home.”

The sheriff clapped Stiles on the back. “That was very nice of you, Stiles. I guess those First Aid classes paid off.” He grinned, then left them on the front porch. “Don’t stay out too late. Dinner’s at six.”

Stiles stepped outside and closed the door behind him. “Derek…?”

“I wanted to thank you for helping me the other day,” Derek said, and he sounded shy. “I’m sure you have a lot of quest—”

“I’m just happy you’re okay,” Stiles interrupted, and he meant it.

“Yeah,” Derek said, his smile small. “Yeah, I’m alright.” Then he took a few tentative steps towards Stiles, stopping just shy of too close. From behind his back—Stiles hadn’t even noticed his hands were behind his back—he pulled a pair of binoculars.

Stiles had lost his in the woods, but hadn’t even noticed or cared in light of Shadow—Derek—being hurt. They might have been his favorite part of the kit, and the part that let him watch the wolves, but Stiles only missed them a little bit. The pair Derek held out to him, however, was fancier, completely at odds with the rest of his adventurer’s kit, but Derek was giving them to him, so…

Derek carefully hung them around Stiles’ neck, and Stiles let him. Then he reached for Stiles’ hand, and Stiles let him do that, too. His thumb traced a warm path over Stiles’ knuckles, and Stiles’ throat went dry.

“Do you, um.” Swallowing thickly, Stiles flicked between where their hands touched and Derek’s incredible, indescribable eyes. They were why Shadow had been his favorite wolf pup—his pretty eyes. With his free hand, he held the binoculars. “Do you want to come upstairs and read some comics?”

Derek’s smile widened. “Yeah,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“Cool.” Stiles laughed, nervous and happy. Giddy, really.

“And I’ll tell you all about the wolves in the woods.”

Stiles grabbed his hand and dragged him in the house.

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2: [Moonlit Run](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6541258)  
> Part 3: [A Night Hunt](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6604321)
> 
> You can also find me on tumblr: [foxtricks](http://foxtricks.tumblr.com/)


End file.
